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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509873">Golden Daffodils' Sea</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauDH8/pseuds/LauDH8'>LauDH8</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All are a bit damaged, Community: hp_drizzle, Draco likes Muggle things, HP Drizzle Fest 2020, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healing, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Muggle films, POV Harry Potter, Past Child Abuse, Poetry, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, References to Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore, Sad Harry Potter, Self-Harm, Sentient Grimmauld Place, Sentient Hogwarts, Tattoos, There's parties, Though makes tiny appereance, but small, muggle tattoos, really small</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:55:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,840</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauDH8/pseuds/LauDH8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harry returned to Grimmauld and curled alone in Sirius’ bed, the night weighted on him and he choked with fear. A crack inside him had the shape and sound of their portkey disappearing. He didn’t sleep that night, Fred’s funeral fresh in his mind too. The guilt at his lack of tears or emotions the previous day overwhelmed him and kept his eyes opened so he could feel how undeserving of the Weasley’s love he was. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>The months after the Battle of Hogwarts are sunny and beautiful, even though it feels like the sky should be falling around Harry. He tries to get through grief while fixing Hogwarts, capture some Death Eaters, return to his last year of school and befriend one Draco Malfoy. However, he’ll have to realize grief is not the only thing he has to fight now that he came back from death.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>HP Drizzle Fest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Golden Daffodils' Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_a_bird/gifts">Im_a_bird</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First, I want to thank the mod from the HP Drizzle Fest 2020. You are a bless and I would have died in the process if you weren’t so kind and attentive. Thanks a lot for the extensions, all your help, and for organizing such a fun fest. It was an amazing experience.</p><p>Thank you too, Serpent-under-the-flower, for your beautiful prompt. At first, I wanted to do something poetical with it, but I soon realized my skills in poetic storytelling are not enough. Then I had this huge fic planned, but life interfered and I had to “cut” a lot of my ideas. I’m not sure I got everything you wanted (I went a little wild and far beyond, I think), but I tried hard because I loved your prompt. I hope you like it.</p><p>DiverTazSC, thank you so much for being my beta, you were a blessing with your speedy work, your corrections, and suggestions; you bettered the fic a lot. Your comments were so helpful, and you gave me confidence. Thanks for being my first reader &lt;3. Any remaining mistakes are mine.</p><p>I must thank Fae-vorite as well for allowing me to use one of her gorgeous <a href="https://fae-vorite.tumblr.com/post/628529205609742336/2020-art-dump">fanarts</a> (as inspiration) and brilliant headcanons for this fic. I encourage everyone to go and be blessed with her art.</p><p>The title is inspired by a poem by Wordsworth. It’s the same poem Harry reads, and Draco recites. It’s called “Daffodils” or “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.”</p><p>I’m a little nervous because this is my first fanfic ever, as well as my first English writing, but I hope I meet your expectations. Please read the warnings and tags as there might be things that trigger you. Please let me know if I left anything without a proper tag.</p><p><b>Disclaimer:</b> Harry Potter characters are the property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The breeze blows through Harry’s hair, the sky is clear above. Hogwarts stands broken but proud in front of the black gathering of people. Grass sways peaceful and the green tall trees cast shadows over them, sheltering them from the heat. It smells like joy and life, and Harry’s throat constricts as the funeral ends and his gaze falls on the growing number of tombs in the memorial field next to the castle.</p><p>The bloody day is beautiful just like every single one since the battle of Hogwarts, three weeks ago. Harry’s stiff in his suit, a bit too big for him; he bought it with short notice. He didn’t want to wear the same used black robes to Remus and Tonks funeral that Hermione bought him the first week after the war. He wants to look grown and responsible in front of them, he wants them to look from wherever the train, their train, has taken them and think ‘Teddy is in capable hands. He’s well loved and cared for. He will never be alone.’ That was Harry’s aim since the first day he met Teddy and held him, the same day he had died and returned, but Teddy’s parents didn’t.</p><p>Andromeda, with Teddy in her arms, is at his left. Teddy is one month and a half now, they agreed not to dress him in black, so he has on a white bodysuit, white shorts and a deep blue shirt Harry bought him. The wolves chasing each other across the cloth had reminded him, not only of Remus, but Tonks’ Patronus and his changed form too. Andromeda is holding her head high and she hasn’t cried since that first day Harry went to them so she could go to her daughter, but Harry can see the light trembles of her arms; Teddy has been quiet the whole ceremony and has his tiny hand over his grandmother heart.</p><p>Ron and Hermione, at his right, have just returned from Australia with her parents. She recovered enough of their memories to convince them to agree with a treatment in St. Mungo’s. Molly is behind them and she has her hand around Ron’s forearm. They had left one day after Fred’s funeral. Harry had gone to see them off on the six level of the Ministry of Magic and had stayed there until the teapot had portkeyed them out of England.</p><p>He returned to Grimmauld and curled alone in Sirius’ bed, the night weighted on him and he choked with fear. A crack inside him had the shape and sound of their portkey disappearing. He didn’t sleep that night, Fred’s funeral fresh in his mind too. The guilt at his lack of tears or emotions the previous day overwhelmed him and kept his eyes opened so he could feel how undeserving of the Weasley’s love he was. He vowed in the morning to care for them even more and part of that was not disappearing and burdening them with his nasty lack of emotions, or rather the tight knot that dislodged him from them. He has kept his promise.</p><p>The Ministry employs charm the coffins to go down deep on the ground and the soil falls on them. Harry shudders and Ron holds his shoulder. He wants to grab him like Molly does and keep him from leaving again. The mocking sun that blinds him when its beams cut through the leaves feels more bearable with him by his side. The sky should cry, so he could too.</p><p>Ginny said he could cry with her. She had her head on his shoulder the day after Ron and Hermione left. He had just vowed not to burden them, and she was nudging gently at him to let his emotions go with her. He snapped at her, told her to stop meddling where he didn’t want her. She answered with fire, and they shouted at each other things they didn’t remember when they quieted and fell to the ground in front of the Burrow’s garden. They forgave almost immediately, and Ginny smiled at him. ‘I needed that’, she said and then told him they were better apart. He nodded and kissed her cheek.</p><p>The soil finished covering the tombs and Harry turns slightly to see Ginny next to Molly. Her eyes shine with sadness when she returns his gaze but they’re fond and caring. Harry turns his stare back to the front and smiles at the thought that Ginny seems to be better than him at letting go, as she promised him. He hopes he gets there soon too.</p><p>A shock of white hair catches his attention and he focus on the people that stand in front of Andromeda. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, both elegant and stilled, but ruined like everybody else. Malfoy especially looks thinner than before, like he could be cracked if shaken too strongly. He nods in acknowledgement to them. “Aunt Andromeda, I’m so sorry about your losses,” says Malfoy and Andromeda nods. “May we have a word with you alone?”</p><p>Andromeda shares a look with Harry and passes Teddy to him, Harry holds him against his shoulder as Teddy likes. He watches them go beyond the graves of Remus and Tonks. Teddy pulls at his hair; he hasn’t cut it since before the battle and it reaches his jaw. Harry looks down. “Yes, he’s your cousin, Teddy. You saw him a week ago.”</p><p>“He kept going, huh?” says Ron. “Do you trust him?”</p><p>“He hasn’t done anything to make me distrust him yet. And is not like I can say a word against a reconciliation between Dromeda and Teddy’s last living family.”</p><p>“He did look changed when he talked to me and apologized.” Hermione still has tears falling from her pretty eyes and dark circles under them. “Surprising of Malfoy, but it speaks volumes about him now.” Harry nods.</p><p>“That did get me on my knickers, when he did it with me.” Agrees Ron. “Didn’t know what to tell the git that was so cowardly and awful just a week before.”</p><p>Harry agrees with Ron. But he’s curious too, he must admit that, and he hasn’t stopped himself from being comforted by that curiosity, it feels old, known, and it distracts him when the repetitive days and nights overwhelm him. Draco Malfoy makes him curious; how can someone change that much in such a short time? But is not the only novelty that keeps him sane. The Hooded Hunter, as the aurors, the press and his friends have started to call the man who sends letters with information about the Death Eaters they are looking for, obsesses him. He dropped Jugson and Mulciber Jr. in front of the Ministry on two different nights. Recently Harry saw him during a raid he had tipped off and thanks to that, they captured Crabbe Snr. The bloody bastard was found trying to blow up a muggle children’s hospital. He was dragged away in a body bind and yelled at Harry he would have revenge for his son’s death, before someone stunned him.</p><p>“The day before yesterday, in his visit to the Ministry with his father, he stopped by the aurors office and asked me what a television is. He said he had to settle with me, because Mione wasn’t there.”</p><p>Ron lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “A television? What is Malfoy thinking?”</p><p>“Yes, exactly” says Harry and stares at Malfoy’s tall and lean figure. He’s looking in earnest at Andromeda and occasionally throws an uncertain gaze to his mother.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Harry falls to the ground between broken wood and glass but doesn’t drop his wand. “<i>Desmaius</i>!”, the spell doesn’t hit Greyback but gives momentum to Harry. He gets up and sees the lights from Andromeda’s house outside the barn Greyback has just throw him in. Lestrange is in front of the door trying to disarm the wards and protective spells from the house and Rosier is stunned in the yard where Harry surprised him.<p>“Don’t worry, little Potter. Lestrange will only kill his sister in law, the disgusting blood traitor bitch. The little wolf is my dessert, so perhaps you’ll see him a last time.”</p><p>Harry narrows his eyes at Greyback’s predatory smirk.</p><p>“You won’t have a taste of anyone, filth.” Harry trembles on his unsteady feet, he’s broken something, but feels an army of ants walk over his skin and sees white. He conjures spell after spell, and Greyback blocks them but he must back off; the smirk is gone, and his eyes shine with rage.</p><p>“I’ll bite you to death, little Potter.”</p><p>Harry steps on his broken leg and falls. Greyback takes the chance and darts towards him with a growl. He is it almost on Harry, who lifts his wand. “<i>Expulso</i>!” Greyback flies back with blue light through the hole he threw Harry through and disappears; Harry can’t move fast enough to get out of the barn, so he casts a<i> Bombarda</i> on the rest of the wall. Greyback is stumbling to his feet close to Rosier’s position. “<i>Desmaius Duo</i>.” Harry whispers and the red-light hits Greyback in the back.</p><p>The sun is setting, and he knows backup is coming but he can’t shake the panic and rage that awakened when he received a letter from the Hooded Hunter, and it will be harder to duel without the daylight; he stands up on his left leg and breathes for a moment. The letter said that the remaining Death Eaters were planning an attack on Andromeda and Teddy; they were alone, not like the Weasleys, and it was easier to break the wards here than in Malfoy Manor. Revenge, they were thirsty for blood from Harry’s loved ones and the family that had betrayed Voldemort and their cause.</p><p>When Harry read the letter, he sent a Patronus to Andromeda, Ron and Kingsley and apparated from the room he was fixing in Grimmauld Place straight to the apparition point closest to the Tonks home. The three Death Eaters were there already but they didn’t expect him, so he had a chance to stun Rosier. Lestrange is the only one left and he has succeeded in breaking down the wards. Harry thinks that the absence of help from the house means Andromeda and Teddy managed to escape, but he can’t be sure.</p><p>“Want to join your crazy wife?” Harry shouts as he limps over the barn debris.</p><p>“<i>Crucio</i>!” Lestrange shouts at Harry.</p><p>“<i>Protego</i>.” Harry smirks, “Did that hurt you?”</p><p>“You’re scum on her rotten body, half-blood. And you’re no threat, child.”</p><p>“That’s what Voldemort thought too.”</p><p>“You were just a boy with luck on his side” hissed Lestrange as he attacks Harry.</p><p>“<i>Protego</i>.” The strength of the attack makes Harry back off on his broken leg and he can’t protect himself or dodge Lestrange’s next curse.</p><p>“<i>Crucio</i>!”. Harry falls to the ground and feels his body burn with familiar pain. Lestrange laughs in the night sky and Harry does his best not to scream or let go of his wand. “<i>Crucio</i>!”, hisses Lestrange and the pain grows.</p><p>“<i>Desmaius</i>!” shouts a new voice and Harry breathes in relief. His glasses are crooked on his nose and he’s trembling. He lifts his head but cannot see who stunned Lestrange.</p><p>A dark figure bends over him. The hands are gentle as they turn him face up entirely and fix his glasses. Harry stares up at the Hooded Hunter and tries to decipher the figure’s face, but it must have a disillusionment charm, because there’s only blackness; it’s like looking at a Dementor, but Harry does not feel despair or fear.</p><p>The man points his wand at Harry and gentle shimmers of light surround his body and fade slowly. Harry hears a buzz in his ears and his gaze blurs at the edges, but he feels safe; he doesn’t have to focus on staying alive, so rather he does on the black space the hood covers, like through pure will he could find out who hides behind it. “Ferula,” murmurs the man and Harry relaxes in the ground, he feels the pain diminish in his broken leg as it rests on the conjured sling.</p><p>Harry sees a yellow-light hover above the Hooded Hunter and, before he can say something, it whips on the air and the man falls against Harry with a grunt. Harry looks over him. Rosier is barely awake but points his wand at them, he moves it in a lash movement and the yellow light surges from the wand’s tip again. Harry pushes the man aside and stuns Rosier again under his stretched arm.</p><p>There’s heavy breathing next to Harry and he turns his head with the energy he has left. The Hooded Hunter’s robes are ripped on his neck and shoulder, he’s clutching at them, but the hood is directed at Harry, and Harry feels more than sees (because he can’t see anything) his stare on him. The man touches Harry’s jaw and Harry realizes is wet, warm and in pain. Perfect, the idiot got him with the Whip Curse too, it’s not like he hasn’t enough scars and wounds. Molly and Hermione will worry sick for weeks about this... And everything else.</p><p>Harry reaches for the man’s hand on his face; before he can take it, his head clouds and he passes out.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Harry is petting the wall of the entrance hall in Hogwarts. “And when I came out from the bathroom, they broke apart and blushed. I’ve never seen Luna blush! Gin and she were supposed to be taking care of me, you know?”<p>“Talking to yourself, Potter? Have you gone nuts at last?” says Malfoy with his posh accent. Harry turns to face him.</p><p>“Not your business. But I’m telling her a story to relax her.”</p><p>“Her?”</p><p>“Yes, her. The castle. I’ve discovered she likes gossip and accepts my charms better when I tell her some.”</p><p>Malfoy lifts one eyebrow in disbelief, “And she likes them? Are you any good at it? Perhaps she lets you heal her because you might kill her with boredom and she just wants you to stop.”</p><p>“Interesting, Harry Potter, the Chosen One, Golden Boy, the Boy who Lived, Defeater of Noseless Evil Lords and Killer of Castles with Badly Developed Gossip Skills.” Harry shrugs. “I think I like it, so I’ll keep at it”.</p><p>Malfoy puts his hand close to Harry’s on the wall. “I tried to save you, poor one.”</p><p>“Are you trying to battle the castle?” Harry says pointing with his head at the cuts on Malfoy’s hand. “It’s only been a week since you began your probation here.”</p><p>“I’ve been working on the Manor too. I found out that repairs the Muggle way are sometimes better when there’s been… too much dark magic used to harm and kill...” Malfoy has his face blank and Harry can’t tell what he is feeling. “…Every day. It should be useful here too.”</p><p>“Yes, I supposed it could be less frightening for them,” Harry pets the wall one last time and turns to Draco. “Would you teach me?”</p><p>Malfoy looks confused and then lifts his eyebrows. He seems like he wants to tease him but only nods. “We’ll start tomorrow though; I didn’t bring anything today.”</p><p>“Perfect.”</p><p>Malfoy turns to the wall and swallows. Harry sees him rub his thumb and forefinger.</p><p>“What?” Harry asks.</p><p>“I heard you got hurt. Don’t look surprised, Potter. It’s not that I care how are you, I just want to rub salt in your wounds. There’s never been anyone who gets hurt more than you while saving people. Really, Potter, what is your problem? Can you try not to die each time?”</p><p>“Have you finished? Breath. It’s not like I don’t try. I’m here, right?”</p><p>“As I heard, it was not because of you.”</p><p>“True, but I also saved him.”</p><p>“Whatever, Potter. I didn’t come here to chat. The Headmistress sent me for you, she said you were aware of everything here and she didn’t have time to do the tour right now.” Malfoy gestured around. “And there’s other people who need it.”</p><p>“Goyle? I know, Headmistress McGonagall told me he was on probation starting today.”</p><p>“There’s also Pansy, Blaise and Theo.”</p><p>“Should I be worried?”</p><p>“They’ll behave, I promise.”</p><p>Harry sighs. He can feel the ever-growing heat and feels tired. “I don’t want fights and I don’t know how you convinced them, but…”</p><p>“I’ll help if it comes to that.”</p><p>“Alright. Let’s go.” Harry doesn’t know the Slytherins that well, he was always focused on Malfoy, Goyle and Crabbe. Zabini and Nott should not be a problem from the little he knows, but he still remembers Parkinson saying they should deliver him to Voldemort and, though he’s not going to hold that against her, he knows his friends and the rest of the volunteers might react badly to her. Harry hopes it doesn’t come to that. “Where are they?”</p><p>Draco turns and leads him to the stairs, “They came by floo so they’re in the Headmistress’ office. She wanted to have a word with them while I searched for you.”</p><p>Harry walks behind Malfoy. He wears his hair longer than ever before, it reaches to his jaw, “Aren’t you hot?” Harry says, “That’s a turtleneck your sporting.”</p><p>“I’m fine” Draco answers. “The summer is not that hot this year.”</p><p>“It’s not hot? Are you trying to die from dehydration?”</p><p>“Potter, is none of your business.”</p><p>“What is the problem? I’m just saying you should be comfortable.” Harry stops Malfoy by the shoulder, and he gasps and tenses. “I’m sorry.” Harry lifts his hand.</p><p>“Just leave it, Potter”.</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>Malfoy keeps walking without looking at him and rubs his thumb and forefinger. Harry stares at Malfoy’s figure. He noticed the dark circles under his eyes before and the transparent look of his pale complexion. Harry has a nagging feeling that something is wrong with him beyond that. Even though Malfoy was earnest with his apologies and in his next encounters were polite and even fun, there’s an edge now, something cutting he tries to hide from Harry. It’s like sixth year again.</p><p>Before they arrive at the office Malfoy stops, “What am I doing? You know the way, Potter. I delivered the message and I have things to do.” Malfoy turns and walks past Harry.</p><p>“Malfoy.” Harry follows him without realizing. Malfoy has already turned in the corridor that leads back to the stairs and Harry sees him rubbing at his shoulder. He stops then and frowns, is it possible?</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Harry’s breathing is harsh. He feels his aunt’s cold hands all over his body from his nightmare. She was scrubbing him, washing him, as she repeated ‘You’re weird just like my sister and your father’. ‘You must be clean to touch others; you must always be clean in case you touch my Popkin.’ Harry feels his skin prickle and he wants to scratch it. He can’t see in the darkness of his room, and perhaps he is filthy.<p>Harry tries to disentangle himself from the sweat wet sheets and run to the shower, but he trips, and there’s no strength in his arms and legs so he falls to the floor. He doesn’t move, just closes his eyes and tries to control his breathing. He thinks of Ron’s face and his freckles, like the times he and Hermione helped Harry break a panic attack. He counts the freckles in his mind till he can’t think of anything else. When he opens his eyes, the candles are burning, and the fire is alight. He rests his sweated front on the floor.</p><p>“Thank you.” He whispers to the room and feels a little gentle shake from the floor.</p><p>It’s the first of September and he’s back at Hogwarts, in his new room in the Eight-Year Common Room. He was sleeping alone for the first time in months. Ron and Hermione had wanted to stay with him, but Harry didn’t want to come between them. Lately, he had surprised them more often that he liked in intimate moments and he felt strongly like he was becoming the third wheel. He was begging for their love and he shouldn’t do that. He knew he shouldn’t want and, even less, ask for more; he has already been given much more than he deserves. So, he was firm and told them they must sleep in their own room once they were back at Hogwarts.</p><p>Hermione said he was closing himself off, and there was no need. Harry didn’t want to worry them, so he made up a half the truth, <i>I’m not comfortable being in between you, Mione</i>, with a significant look and a grin (that he hoped was full of innuendo and not an ounce of sadness or fear of losing them —a fear he still is struggling with, even more since the attack on Andromeda and Teddy in June.) She had smiled sheepishly, the same as Ron and they had nodded and that had been it.</p><p>Harry gets up and walks with trembling legs to the fire. He ignores the small chair that moves for him and sits on the carpet. With one arm he surrounds his legs and rests his head on his knees. The other hand touches and pets the floor. He likes to feel connected to the castle, and it’s stronger when he touches her surfaces. In the almost three months he spent fixing her, he realized he could feel her better and better. Before, he knew the castle was magical and had her own mind but, after waking up the day he died and before he went to Teddy, he noticed he could almost hear her. Harry thinks this new awareness it’s because Voldemort’s soul was shadowing his sense of magic, as he has discovered he not only feels Hogwarts but Grimmauld Place too, it’s like communicating with snakes, he does it without knowing how.</p><p>It was helpful (almost always) for him, Kreacher and his friends when they fixed and redecorated Grimmauld. He started almost at the same time they did at Hogwarts. Harry had carried through May and half of June in a numb daze, visiting Teddy or under the bright sky at funerals or chasing after Death Eaters. Once the rebuild at Hogwarts started, they had almost captured every Death Eater that escaped Azkaban, and McGonagall forbid everyone to work on weekends.</p><p>He then found himself the first Saturday at the Burrow; he couldn’t be inside as he couldn’t help Molly or George with their grief (it made no difference if he was there or not) and he couldn’t stay outside because the sun made him want to move on, and that was wrong of him. He mourned dark skies and rain again, so he could stay a cold ghost.</p><p>That night he didn’t sleep remembering Fred, Remus, Tonks and Sirius. An endless loop of faces and memories. When the sun rose again, he was close to losing his mind. He got dressed, went out and apparated to Grimmauld. Some hours later Ron and Hermione came to him and Kreacher. The next weekend it was Ginny and Luna. Then Neville. And as they got closer repairing Hogwarts, Draco joined them. At first, he only gave Harry advice, but he didn’t want to go. ‘It is your home, Potter,’ Draco said as if it explained everything when Harry asked him why.</p><p>A few days later, Harry was wailing he couldn’t get Walburga’s portrait down, though he had convinced the house to change everything else, including unhanging the House-Elves heads (Kreacher took and kept them with him, Harry’s never asked where, when Harry offered to bury them.) Harry pleaded, ‘You have more experience than any of us, you repaired the Manor.’ Draco looked down at him with disdain and Harry said ‘Please, Draco.’ It was the first time he used the name out loud and to the owner’s face. Draco bent his head a little, flushed and nodded.</p><p>Harry had like having all his friends around his house. He knew they were under his roof, and Grimmauld knew he cared, so the house occasionally let him know they were fine.</p><p>“Thank you, pretty.” Harry says as he felt the castle doing the same for him now. He’s still trembling, and the cold hands are on him. He keeps his position until they’re gone. He lifts his head, his mind is blurry, his body aches and the day’s come.</p><p> He gets ready and goes down to the Great Hall. Zabini and Nott are eating at the eight-year table, and Harry sits next to them.</p><p>It still comes as a surprise when Harry thinks how those two, Parkinson, Greg and his friends became less enemies or indifferent school mates as they got in trouble fixing the castle. As he thought, his friends had softened faster to Nott and Zabini than Parkinson, Draco and Goyle. There were skirmishes daily, that Harry, Ron and Hermione couldn’t fully understand, especially between Goyle, Parkinson and the volunteers from the other three houses from their year. Until one day, Harry, Hermione and Draco convinced everyone to have a party by the edge of the Great Lake. The Firewhiskey ran wild and everyone got drunk fast trying to tamper down the discomfort.</p><p>Everyone was starting to relax. Seamus and Dean were seated close to Parkinson and Goyle. Harry doesn’t know how everything started, but suddenly Seamus stood up and began shouting at Goyle. The Slytherin’s face paled as Seamus screamed about a first year Goyle had tortured under the Carrows’ orders.  Parkinson shouted back but Goyle was frozen. Dean tried to stop Seamus, but his fist connected with Goyle face first. The Slytherin was as drunk as Seamus and fell on his ass, he stayed there ashen faced and started to cry, silently. He grabbed his hair and pulled as he whispered apologies to the air.</p><p>No one was able to make him let go of his hair. Minutes passed and some people suggested stunning him or that Madam Pomfrey be called. Until Seamus, as suddenly as he had started shouting, hugged Goyle and wept with him.</p><p>Their parties turned into a Friday tradition. In those months, the shelter of the night, the alcohol and having lived through a war did for all the pending eighth years what seven years of classes and coexistence couldn’t.</p><p>“Potter. You look like you didn’t close an eye last night.” Zabini says.</p><p>Harry fills his plate and drinks some tea. “Thanks for the compliment, mate. Morning to you too.”</p><p>“Potter.” Nott greets with an amused grin.</p><p>“Nott.”</p><p>Harry sees other students throwing curious glances at them, but he guesses this time it’s not only because of him, but rather the fact that it’s a Gryffindor (Harry bloody Potter at that) who’s speaking with two Slytherins, even more, bantering over morning tea.</p><p>“Harry, morning. Zabini, Nott.”</p><p>“Morning, Mione.” Harry grins as the two Slytherins nod at her.</p><p>“Good to see you, mate.” Ron says. “It’s been ages.”</p><p>“One night, mate. And I still don’t think you’d missed me that much.” Harry says and drinks some tea with a mischievous glint in his eyes.</p><p>“I did, mate.” Ron says seriously and takes his hand. “Don’t abandon us ever again.”</p><p>“That’s creepy, Weasley.” Nott says. “I want to keep my breakfast in my stomach, Thank you very much.”</p><p>“Yes, mate. You’re embarrassing us in front of the Slytherins.”</p><p>“Shush, Harry. We know they’re all softies.” The softies gasp and Harry and Hermione giggle. Harry looks fondly at her bright eyes and easy smile. Ron and Hermione are doing fine. She has started to smile more often, her arm almost never trembles anymore, and her parents have recovered all their memories. Ron still goes quiet sometimes and touches his hair (it connects him to Fred, Ron told Harry once,) but he also looks at Hermione with a shine in his eyes and he’s sleeping better as days go by.</p><p>Harry feels his smile fade, he can’t let them see his nightmares are coming back. He smiles again and hopes it reaches his eyes. Hopes his strength is enough to keep it there, enough to battle the tiredness that has been settling slowly and deeper in the last four months.</p><p>“Harry?” Hermione nudges him softly. “Are you listening?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I was asking if you’re excited.”</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>“This weekend.”</p><p>The movies, “Yes, of course. Have you decided what will we watch?”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” asks Zabini.</p><p>“We’re going with Malfoy to a muggle attraction. He’s been bombarding Harry and Hermione with questions for months about muggle things. He wants to try the cinema for the next outing into the muggle domains, as he calls it.” Ron says. “It’s my first time too.”</p><p>“Oh, so that’s this weekend? He’s been talking about it for days, I’m so glad it will be over soon. ‘They´re not portraits, Theo. Yes, they move, but they tell stories. They’re like day and night, plonker.” Ads Nott and Zabini nods vigorously.</p><p>“It’s worse than Fourth Year and Po…” Zabini winces. “Don’t tell him that I almost said that. He will murder me.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Zabini. He sold himself out with the enthusiasm he showed with the Potter Stinks badges.” Ron says.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>The outing to Dufftown cinema is a success and has more repercussions than intensifying Draco’s obsession with films, or with <cite>The Man in the Iron Mask</cite> in any case. Harry remembers fondly the focused stare Draco had on the big screen with his mouth slightly open throughout the entire movie and tries to ignore the urge to throw something at the memory of the delighted expression Draco did every time Philippe made an appearance.<p>These repercussions are the reason why Harry and Draco walk down the Main Street of Dufftown the next weekend, the Clock Tower standing at their backs, their steps resounding in the street. Ron and Hermione are not with them this time. Harry and Draco might take hours to be back and Ron and Hermione wanted to rest in the castle.</p><p>They pass by very similar looking houses, all with chimneys and heavy wood doors and window frames. There’re children running down the street and people enter and leave pretty stores. The distillery where Ron and Hermione went in to buy some famous whiskey for them and their friends after the movie is open and packed with tourists. The previous week Draco had intended to go with them but stopped when he saw Harry staring further down the street, where a tattoo parlor was visible. Draco took him by the hand, strode firmly to the front, went in and made an appointment for them both.</p><p>As they go inside the parlor now, the tattoo artist greets them. She’s working on the ankle of a young women so she shows them the open waiting room with a nod of her head and says she will be there in a while. The waiting room has four black leather armchairs. The interior of the parlor is warm and is decorated in black and silver colors. It looks a bit like a cave with its rock walls.</p><p>Draco sits elegantly, his left ankle over his right knee, in the armchair that has its back to the door. His hair is longer now, and he ties it in a low ponytail that lets some soft strands frame his face. He’s also gained weight and is looking healthier. He has on a white shirt and black trousers. It’s been a long time since Harry saw him with those long-necked shirts that made him look suffocated. He started dressing like a normal human being working under clear skies, bright days and hot weather after a week of suffering. Harry’s eyes trail to his neck and shoulder looking for scars that faded over that time, he is sure, though, they were there before. Harry never asked Draco, but later one day when Hermione, Ron and Harry were together in Ron’s bed at the Burrow, Harry confided his suspicions. Hermione looked at him with her smart eyes, ‘I’ve been thinking it might be him.’ Harry lifted his eyebrows and Ron gasped ‘What? How?... Why?’ ‘Think about it. Every time Draco came to us with questions about muggle things, he showed up at the aurors office and waited till we noticed him. Later, we just spoke freely around him about the Death-Eaters that weren’t imprisoned yet. But after every time he came, we received information about the most urgent cases’ Hermione said, ‘Then the attack on Andromeda home happened, the Hooded Hunter got hurt on his neck and shoulder and…’ ‘We had a week of turtleneck-Malfoy’ Ron said nodding.</p><p>They decided not to say anything to him, whatever the reason he had to hide his identity wasn’t their business and what mattered was that he had done the right thing this time. But it managed to soften Ron around Draco and solidify Harry’s curiosity, and he pursued it openly, admiring Draco’s efforts to change. Now, as well as Ron and Hermione, Draco seems to do better each day. The more he learns, the more he works, Draco recovers from that ill-war-looking fashion they all sported.</p><p>Nonetheless, Draco seems nervous sometimes. Like now. He rubs his thumb and forefinger and Harry reaches across the space to place a hand over them. “You sure you want to do it, Draco?”</p><p>“It’s fine, Potter.” Draco moves his hand out of Harry’s grasp and touches his left forearm. “I want to change it. This is what I am, but not entirely. Not anymore, I think.”</p><p>“You’re right. You’re not that, Draco. This is part of who you’ve become and keep growing to be. Dumbledore once said that it’s our choices that makes us who we are, and I’ve seen you battle to make the right ones since the end of sixth year. Though you <i>really </i>were bad at it back then.”</p><p>“Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, Right?” The tattoo artist calls them and saves Harry from Draco’s sarcastic tongue. “My name is Aileen. If you like we can discuss what each of you want and the easiest comes first. It’s that alright?”</p><p>They both nod, and she looks at them expectantly. Harry clears his throat as he glances at Draco and sees him still flushed from their talk, “I want four names, two on my chest and two on my forearms.”</p><p>“It’s there some lettering or decorations you want on them?”</p><p>“No, I want them delicate and only the names. No decorations.”</p><p>“Alright, I can work with that. And you Mr. Malfoy?”</p><p>“I have a scar in my forearm. I want a dragon looped around it, and the dragon should be surrounded by white and yellow daffodils.”</p><p>“Can I see your arm?”</p><p>Draco carefully folds his shirt sleeve and lifts his arm for her. He steals glances at Harry and his right thumb and forefinger rub again.</p><p>“Did you tried to have a previous tattoo removed?” Aileen asks with Draco’s arm in her delicate fingers. “They did not do nice work.”</p><p>Harry winces, it’s true. The Dark Mark doesn’t look like a living tattoo anymore and the black has faded leaving red scarred skin. Like a burn scar.</p><p>“Yes, something like that.” Draco answers.</p><p>Aileen quirks her eyebrows and Harry thinks she might be wondering what that ‘something’ means but doesn’t press further. “Alright, what kind of dragon do you want? Do you want it in black? Or in color? Is there a special style you want? Traditional, realist, tribal, Japanese, like paint brush, dotwork…”</p><p>She speaks fast and practically, probably thinking Draco will understand everything; he looks baffled, instead. Harry nudges him with a finger on his ribs and Draco says softly “I have the design here,” He takes out a parchment and Harry recognizes the dragon from the Malfoy family crest. “I want it in white.”</p><p>Aileen nods as she looks the design. “You have time for the whole day, yes?” She asks but starts moving around. “They’re simple tattoos but it still will take time. Mr. Potter, you first. Would you take off your shirt and sit?” She claps the back of a tall chair in the front of the parlor. Harry gets up and takes off his shirt.</p><p>“Harry, please.”</p><p>“Alright. Harry.” Aileen says.</p><p>Harry sits and looks at her in the mirror but refuses to see himself. He knows he’s skinny and his eyes look opaque behind his glasses, but what scares him is that his reflection shows dirt on him, a reminder of his unworthiness and he refuses to see proof of that in front of Draco. He can’t bare the disappointment.</p><p>Harry struggles with the nausea and need to pull the shirt back on, he wants the names of his loved ones on him. His parents close to his heart, protecting him, reminding him of love. Remus on his left forearm, the arm he holds Teddy with. Sirius on his right, the one that strokes Teddy’s cheek and protects him, that protects everyone he loves, his wand arm.</p><p>Aileen gets to work after she asks for the names and the positions. Harry closes his eyes and hears the machine turn on. Feels its needles work on his skin and the pain calms the prickles his skin has been feeling since a week ago. It calms him. Draco shifts in the leather armchair.</p><p>“That’s an interesting scar.” Aileen says, she’s engraving his dad’s name next to the locket scar above his heart. Harry hums and to his relief, Aileen keeps talking, “Who are these people?”</p><p>“They’re my family.”</p><p>“Did you lose them?” Harry opens an eye, but she doesn’t seem unkind or full of false pity. He nods and closes his eye. “I thought so. Many people tattoo their loved ones or symbols of them. They want them close. The skin is as close as they can come to remember love isn’t lost. Yes, they’re in their hearts but we can’t see hearts.”</p><p>“I can understand that.”</p><p>“But it’s unusual to tattoo names.”</p><p>“Words have power, like spells and I want them on me.” Harry says.</p><p>Draco shifts again and all of them remain quiet.</p><p>“We’re done, Harry.” Aileen says one and a half hour later.</p><p>Harry opens his eyes. The skin of his forearms is tender and red, but Sirius and Remus’ names are delicately written in cursive. He braves himself and looks at his chest. His parents’ names on him make it easier to breath. They’re here with him and Harry feels tears fill his eyes after months of nothing. He smiles at Aileen. “Thank you, they feel right.” She nods like she understands.</p><p>She gives him aftercare recommendations as she puts ointment on and covers them with a plastic wrap. Draco comes over and looks at him, “Not even a whimper, Potter.”</p><p>Harry rolls his eyes and grins a bit easier. “Come to the torture chair, Draco.”</p><p>Aileen laughs and claps the chair again, “Welcome to my dungeon, Mr. Malfoy.”</p><p>Harry and Draco laugh but there’s an edge to it. Harry, and surely Draco, remembers his, Ron and Hermione’s visit to the Manor dungeons.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Harry and Draco walk back along the Main Street of Dufftown after four hours. The full moon cuts the night and reflects in the road. It's warm to be September at night and Harry has a knot in his throat, he’s sick of it.<p>“It's a beautiful town by day and night.” Draco says.</p><p>“And they have delicious whiskey.”</p><p>“And some decent tattoo artists.”</p><p>“Yep.” Harry gazes at Draco’s covered tattoo, “Will you tell me what it’s about?”</p><p>Draco looks ahead. They pass by a couple of streets, past the Clock Tower and almost arrive to the edge of the town where they will Apparate, before Draco speaks. “Malfoy means ‘bad faith’ in French. It’s telling about me and my family’s mistakes, don’t you think? They’re always someone else’s fault or they can be diminished with power and money. I thought at first my mistakes were my father’s, and they are somehow, but what we choose is what we are.” He glances at Harry and then at the moon. “And I chose to follow Riddle, even if I feared him, mainly out of a security that I knew the world and I was better than everything else in it. I chose him too because I wanted my father to be proud, and I wanted to protect mother and father from his rage. I thought I knew who I was and choose to follow him. As time passed and I tried to kill Dumbledore, I realized I didn’t know who I was and feared I couldn’t stand up to the choices I had made. I was right. But it doesn’t excuse my actions.”</p><p>Harry wants to tell him he was a kid and scared, but he knows that’s not what Draco needs, that’s not what Draco is telling him. “We all make choices we regret.” Harry says as he looks at Draco’s torso and remembers a bathroom and blood. “And sometimes we’re not brave enough to acknowledge it and do something about it.” Harry looks straight at Draco’s grey and stormy eyes. “I’m sorry, Draco.”</p><p>Draco lifts the corner of his lips with a small movement, and Harry feels an urge to touch them, but stops disgusted with himself. Draco doesn’t need that now. And he remembers with a shake and a ghostly feel of cold hands on his skin that he doesn’t deserve that, to touch.</p><p>“Anyway, the dragon is me and my family. A reminder of the wrong choices I’ve made, and the reasons why. A sign to never be full of myself again. The flowers are my mother’s love and new beginnings, something I wanted to give myself without forgetting the past. Never doing that.”</p><p>Harry realizes this is Draco Malfoy and his heart accelerates with amazement.</p><p>“Thanks for telling me, Draco.” Draco nods, the loose strands of his hair moving and charming Harry. Draco turns to leave, and after a short pause Harry follows.</p><p>They Apparate to Hogsmeade and walk to the castle in the middle of a comfortable silence. They come in the common room and Harry sees Ron in an armchair by the fire. He’s playing chess by himself. Hermione is not there.</p><p>Harry draws near to him, and Draco tells him over his shoulder he’ll go for a book and comeback.</p><p>“Alright.” Harry says. He sits across Ron. “Hullo, mate. And Mione?”</p><p>“Hi, Harry. She’s with the mind healer.”</p><p>“Didn’t know she made an appointment.”</p><p>“Yep. I did too, it’s on Monday. How about you?”</p><p>Harry shakes his head. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“It’s your decision, mate. But McGonagall hired him for a reason.” Harry shrugs and Ron sighs. “How was Dufftown?”</p><p>“Lovely.”</p><p>“And well? Will you show me?” Ron gestures to the board with a question in his eyes and arranges it when Harry agrees.</p><p>Harry uncovers his arms. “You won’t see much. There’s another two here” Harry points at his chest. “Pawn to e4.”</p><p>“And Malfoy too? Pawn to e5.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Weasley”, Draco greets Ron and sits beside Harry. “Why do you keep playing with Potter? Don’t you get bored of always winning?”</p><p>“Bishop to c4.” Harry says and the piece moves with a grunt.</p><p>“If you have a better suggestion I’m listening. He’s really not good at it.”</p><p>“Hey.” Harry scowls. “I’m good at it, Ron is just a freaking god.”</p><p>Draco ignores him and smirks at Ron, “You could always try to beat me. At least it will not be boring when you lose.”</p><p>Ron narrows his eyes. “I’m in. Mate, move over.” Draco’s smirks grows and he trades positions with a fake-hurt-Harry, who throws his arms up and murmurs about disloyalty and barely started games. Without looking at Harry, Draco shoves the book he brought into his chest. <cite>Poems, In Two Volumes</cite> by Wordsworth. Harry remembers the author’s name from primary school. He shifts on the armchair and opens the book.</p><p>“Did Mione let you borrow this?” Harry asks.</p><p>“No, she mentioned him, and I bought it in muggle London.”</p><p>Harry turns the pages without reading the poems, until he comes to a page that’s been read many times, as told by its yellowish tone and crumpled corners. The poem title is “<cite>I wandered lonely as a cloud</cite>”. Harry reads it once and then twice. It is about daffodils, narcissi. The memory of a walk in which the poet came across a sea of daffodils and the nature was calm. The breeze made the flowers dance and the poet’s heart with it in his moments of solitude. Draco had read this poem many times. Harry glances up at him. His confident smirk back in place after months, and Harry wonders when the daffodils had made Draco’s heart dance, or if he longs for a time when they could made it flutter with child’s joy.</p><p>Harry wonders if Draco longs for spring and summer as he longs for rain and cold. If he perhaps wants to forget fire, ashes and cold big houses in a gentler breeze and spaces that Harry can’t stand right now. The easy passing of time suffocating him again.</p><p>“I’ll go to bed, say hi to Mione.” Harry leaves the book on the chair and walks without looking back to the cozy armchair where his best friend and Draco are.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Harry blinks at the blank parchment and to the open potions book at his side. He’s been in the common room the longest. He was here when Ron and Hermione came back from their date and sat next to him. He was here when they left for their room and Neville, Seamus and Dean came. He’s still here now that Draco, Goyle, Zabini, Nott and Parkinson have joined them. The three Gryffindor boys are sighing but when Harry glances up they have already written fifteen inches of the potion’s assignment. He looks down again to his parchment and he can’t bring himself to care or remember whatever potion he must research. The Slytherins, though they have just sat down, are five inches closer to finishing than him.<p>“Are you alright, Potter?” Draco asks. Harry smiles and it comes easy now, though he doesn’t feel it. It’s like years have passed since he felt fine, but it’s only been a month, since he read Malfoy’s poem and played chess with Ron here. He’s tired, and he wants to let everything go. It will be easy. He no longer yearns for anything, but the man who’s speaking to him now. But he’s afraid and Draco still calls him Potter.</p><p>“I’m fine, really.” Draco doesn’t look convinced.</p><p>“You’ve stared at that paper for minutes since we got here.”</p><p>“I’m just tired and this is boring.”</p><p>“Argh, you’re so right, Harry.” Seamus whines. “I’ve just survived a war.”</p><p>“It’s been five months.” Dean says.</p><p>“That’s nothing on the universe time scale, mate.” Seamus says. Harry agrees, it’s barely a blink for life and days keep reminding him of that. “We should do something tomorrow.”</p><p>Everyone looks at him interested. In a flash too fast for Harry to keep up, his friends arrange a bonfire party by the Great Lake, it’s been at least a month since they had one. He agrees to participate with one of his bogus smiles. He hopes Hermione will have something to say about a party when they have NEWT’s to study for. But, when she comes back with her hair tousled, a happy small smile and says she will ask for permission from McGonagall, Harry’s heart sinks. He wants to be excited, but he isn’t. He wants to share knowing grins, like everyone is doing to Ron’s blushed and Hermione’s satisfied faces and feel it. He wants to touch Malfoy, but he doesn’t dare.</p><p>He feels lightheaded and wants to get away from their friends’ presence, or he’ll ruin their joy. Once he and Draco have assured Seamus they will go buy the Dufftown whiskey everyone has grown fond of, he gets up and smiles to all his friends.</p><p>“I’m tired. I’ll go rest now.”</p><p>In his room he undresses and leaves his clothes where they fall, just like all the other nights since October began. If his room is not a mess it is because of Kreacher, and Harry knows it. The elf leaves food for him every night with a scolding note about the mess he’s found from the previous night. Tonight, there’s Treacle Tart with pumpkin juice and steak and ale pie. Before, it would have bothered him to leave the food untouched and the note unopened. Not now. The room lights shake, “I’m sorry, pretty. I don’t feel like it.” His bed creaks and the windows quake. “Tomorrow I’ll eat just fine, I promise. I just want to sleep.”</p><p>Harry gets in his unmade bed and closes his eyes. He doesn’t think he can sleep.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Harry and Draco once again walk down Dufftown’s Main Street. Harry didn’t sleep last night. His body is heavy and his legs and arms tremble lightly. Draco hasn’t said much though he’s looking at him every time Harry turns to him.<p>“Will you cut your hair? Aileen said she would do it for you.” Harry says.</p><p>“I think I should, it’s getting too long.”</p><p>It is longer, but Harry loves it. He likes it when Draco has it in a high ponytail and it sways as Draco walks elegantly. He likes it when Draco is tired at night and lets it down and it frames his lean figure almost to his elbows. Though now, that it is longer, the strands that fell around his face in a soft curve rarely escape from the hair tie, he stilk likes it.</p><p>“I can buy the whiskey. Meanwhile, try not to get another tattoo while you’re there.”</p><p>Draco snorts, “Look who’s speaking.”</p><p>Harry laughs. Neither of them can say anything. Since that first week of September, both have got more tattoos. Fred, Tonks and Colin’s names joined the first four. Fred and Colin on his shoulders and Tonks above Remus. He showed them to Teddy last time he and Draco visited Andromeda and the six-month-old baby had clung to his arm the entire evening.</p><p>Harry also has a tiny snowy owl on his ribs and an otter resting under a willow with the full moon above them on his back. He wants to have more but hasn’t decided what he wants next.</p><p>Draco has two iron black masks, Melpomene and Thalia, on his right ankle (he got them the third consecutive weekend they repeated <cite>The Man in the Iron Mask </cite>and during the middle of his enthrallment with Greek theatre) and a film roll on the left. He also got the Deathly Hollows the next weekend after Harry told him about his death in the Forbidden Forest. Draco had not said a word when Harry asked him about it. Sometimes he can see it on Draco’s right forearm.</p><p>Harry walks the kilometer it takes to get to the Glenfiddich distillery out of Dufftown and back, instead of walk till the town's shop. It’s October and the trees are finally changing from green to brown, orange and yellow. Harry appreciates the colder wind that blows, but it doesn’t ease the burning knot that’s been growing in him since June. He walks slowly, trying to wake himself up. It’s already four when Harry walks inside Aileen’s parlor, and they arrived at Dufftown just after lunch.</p><p>“There’s the man. I thought he had abandoned you.” Aileen says fondly to Draco. “Or worse, that someone kidnapped my best client.”</p><p>“I beg your pardon?” Draco says standing up from the leather armchair they both have spent hours in.</p><p>“Well, one of my two best clients.”</p><p>Draco nods and hugs her. “Thanks for the cut and your time, Aileen.”</p><p>“It’s not like I have something better to do, you nuisance. Next time find a hairdresser or pay me.”</p><p>“You insisted, untrustworthy woman.”</p><p>“Thanks for taking care of the baby, Aileen.” Harry stands awkwardly at the front door until she strides over and hugs him.</p><p>“You take care of yourself too, Harry.” She looks older when they break apart.</p><p>“I’ll let it go this time, Aileen.” Draco says and she chuckles. He takes Harry’s hand and leads him out. “What took you so long?”</p><p>“Nothing.” Draco looks at him like he is an imbecile. “The days just all feel the same. I wanted to maybe get lost and find something new.”</p><p>“And did you?”</p><p>“No, just the same loop that repeats since months ago.” Harry looks at Draco from the corner of his eyes. He’s frowning at him.</p><p>“Are you sure you’re fine?” Draco stops him by the shoulder. “We’re worried. All of us.”</p><p>“Don’t be. I’m fine. Just tired.”</p><p>“Yes, you say that all the time. But there’s more, right?”</p><p>“Leave it, Draco. There’s nothing wrong with me.”</p><p>“I didn’t… Alright, but you know you can speak to us.”</p><p>“Of course, I know. Let’s go back. We have a party and a Seamus to get to. He’s surely missing his whiskey.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Harry tries his best to look happy and like a teenager when they come back to Hogwarts. He clings to Seamus’ excitement and lets him order him around. The time passes faster that way too, and Harry finds himself seated in front of the bonfire, singing next to a drunk Seamus. The other eighth and seventh years that are there gladly join their bad singing and start a drinking contest. Harry thinks Draco and he are the only ones that have had almost the same amount of whiskey on their cups since the beginning. Draco keeps staring at him from across the fire. Harry tries to avoid his gaze as it not only reminds him how close he was to showing all of his darkness to the boy he loves, but also because the fire casts shadows on his face that call too close lions, snakes and other creatures made of fire from their past chasing to turned them to ashes.<p>“What’s going on, Harry?” Ginny says, she’s seated next to him with Luna on her lap.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Malfoy, Harry. He’s trying to pierce you with his severe and mysterious stare.”</p><p>“Did something happen?” Luna says, playing with her hair, so like her cousin’s.</p><p>“Not really…” Ginny nudges him, “Ok, I might’ve upset him.”</p><p>“What did you do?” Ginny asks.</p><p>“Nothing!”</p><p>“Oh, so you did this. Avoid meaningful conversations.” Harry scowls at her and Luna giggles, it sounds like tinkerbells and Harry remembers he loves them.</p><p>“I might have not said everything.” Harry damns the atmosphere and pleasing evening for making his tongue loose.</p><p>“You left out that you like him but are scared?”</p><p>“I don’t like him, Gin.” Harry says strangled. “And I’m not scared.”</p><p>“I agree the kicked puppy look and the sick appearance you have are not only because of that, but you refuse to speak about it with Ron and Hermione, so I won’t ask. But the Malfoy issue, you’ll spill it.”</p><p>When have they spoke about him? Harry wants to ask, but Luna caresses Ginny’s face and says sadly, “Don’t be so harsh with Harry. He’s blue.”</p><p>Ginny kisses Luna’s nose and makes her smile, then scowls at Harry, “Remember I dated you. Spill it.”</p><p>Harry looks at them, he’s been looking at them. He sees their relaxed and confiding postures, the easy way they’re sitting and touching at each other. Comforting and taking pleasure from each other. Harry wants that and he wants it with Draco. He wishes it so strongly, he says, “I love him.”</p><p>Ginny places a strand of black hair behind his ear. “Why don’t you say something to him?”</p><p>“I think he will find it lovely, Harry.” Says Luna. “You don’t have to do anything else, just tell him. That’s more than enough.”</p><p>Harry can’t think. He’s warm from the fire, Luna’s soft support and Ginny’s outspoken manners. His mind is cloudy too, because of the want he’s been trying to subdue, and the tiredness that leaves the battle against fear. “How bad could it be?”</p><p>“Not much. Go, you twit.” Ginny says and she has a glint in her eyes as she continues, “I think he at least tolerates you.”</p><p>Harry stands with that not so reassuring comment and hears Luna say ‘Oh, Gin, you need to learn how to cheer someone.' ‘But it worked’ is Ginny’s answer. Harry tries not to fall headfirst on the fire from nerves and sits down next to Draco. “Are you having fun?”</p><p>“Not much. I’m looking after an incredible number of drunk idiots.”</p><p>“Seamus doesn’t need babysitting. And he wouldn’t like it.”</p><p>Draco’s lips twitch, but he’s serious when he says, “What do you want, Potter?”</p><p>Harry thinks that if he wants this to go well, he must yield. “I want to talk.”</p><p>“You’re doing it.”</p><p>“Merlin’s tits, Draco. I want to tell you about what’s going on with me.” Draco’s attention zeroes in on him and Harry gulps. “I can’t tell you everything now, I’m not even sure what’s really happening. I’m not stupid, I know I have many fears since the war, and I know something is locking everything inside me. I can’t tell anything apart, besides fear, protectiveness, this heavy tiredness and…” love.</p><p>Draco takes his hand and presses. “It’s okay. You can speak to me.”</p><p>Harry nods, he can feel it, how he breathes easier now that he’s started speaking, but still, he can’t have this conversation now. “Thank you. I’ll do it. I promise. But right now, I don’t want to think about it.”</p><p>“Alright. What do you want?” Draco smiles softly at him.</p><p>A Weird Sister’s song starts to play on the wireless. Seamus starts shouting out of tune again and everyone laughs. Harry glances at him and smiles with a raised eyebrow. Then turns to Draco. “I love that song. Would you dance with me?”</p><p>Draco blushes. “Only if you promise not to step on me.”</p><p>“I’ll make no such promise.”</p><p>Draco snickers but stands and offers his hand to Harry. They move to the rhythm of the music and Harry lifts his arms in the air. More people join them, but Harry only has eyes for Draco. He’s jumping in front of him, bright smile in place, mesmerizing moves and blond hair curling from sweat on his neck and in front of his face. Harry’s never seen him like this. He knows nothing’s fixed, but he feels better, and lets himself get lost in Draco’s charm.</p><p>They keep dancing for at least five more songs. Harry only steps on Draco a half dozen of times. They’re bright eyed when they finally sit down again. Harry is breathing fast and light. “Thank you, Draco.”</p><p>“You’re welcome, Potter.”</p><p>“Why won’t you call me Harry?” Harry places his hands on the ground next to Draco to look at him better. Harry is shorter than him even seated so he leans closer. “Stop looking at the moon.”</p><p>“I can’t call you Harry. I’ll get attached.”</p><p>“And you don’t want to get attached with me?” Harry looks at him ruefully and retreats.</p><p>“No, I think you don’t want to.”</p><p>“That’s silly.” Harry says and the smile that insinuates on his lips reaches to his heart and electrifies his body better than any alcohol. He reaches up and kisses Draco on the cheek. He doesn’t close his eyes to see Draco’s reaction, who’s eyes are open like Voldemort’s returned. Harry’s heart freezes and the prickling on his skin returns, but Draco closes his eyes and turns his head. Harry inhales sharply. Draco’s lips taste faintly of Whiskey. They’re sweet and careful, like Harry’s something precious and fragile. Harry curls his toes and leans again, searching for warmth and wet relief. Draco’s hands come up and curl around his jaw and his fingers play with the messy strands around his face.</p><p>“This is something new.” Harry whispers on Draco’s lips.</p><p>Draco smiles and Harry’s chest might explode with its hummingbird like fluttering.</p><p>“I wandered lonely as a cloud<br/>
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,<br/>
When all at once I saw a crowd,<br/>
A host of golden daffodils;<br/>
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,<br/>
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”</p><p>Draco kiss him lightly and puts his hair behinds his ears, his fingers track the edges and slide down his neck.</p><p>“Wordsworth and daffodils.” Harry says enchanted with Draco’s baritone, soft and crisp voice. “Reciting poems to me, that’s new too.” Harry snickers, “You’re so sappy.”</p><p>Draco nudges him in the ribs. “Shut up, Harry.” His name on Draco’s lips quiets him down effectively. “Daffodils, new beginnings and all that. It seemed appropriate.” Harry kisses Draco’s button nose and he wrinkles it. Harry hides his face in Draco’s neck and Draco hugs him, “Are you happy?”</p><p>Harry hums.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Drizzle falls over Harry and Draco. They're tangled on the ground and close to the bonfire. The cold sweeps at Harry and he opens his eyes. The flames aren’t warm, despite being by his side. Draco is pale next to him; his lips are purple. Harry shakes him trying to wake him up, but he doesn’t open his eyes and moves under his hands like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Harry gasps. Draco skin turns black everywhere he touches.<p>“No, no, no, no. Not you.” Harry whimpers and lets go of Draco.</p><p>“It’s too late, child!” shrieks a high-pitched voice. “I told you to clean yourself before you touch him. You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve anything, freak.”</p><p>“No! I know”. Harry curls on himself and a cold hand claws his shoulder.</p><p>“But you touched him, you made him dirty.”</p><p>“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” Harry cries in a tender voice, a child’s voice. Harry lifts his head when the hands lift. He’s in his cupboard. Draco’s gone. The lights are out. “Let me out” he whispers, and the tears track down his cheeks.</p><p>Harry gasps and wakes up. There’s rain falling over him. The night is dark above his head, there’s no moon or stars to be seen in between the clouds. The sky is finally falling around him. There’s a pounding on his head and a warm weight over his chest. Harry lifts his heavy head. The bonfire is barely alive now, subjugated to the water. He thinks he sees his friends and some other students from the party asleep on the ground too drunk to feel the rain, but they’re blurred. His eyes hurt and he touches them. His hand meets wet skin and he can’t tell if it is tears or rain. What he knows is he can’t stand the arm on him, over his chest. He’ll taint it, as his aunt said. Harry wriggles out from under it and hurries away, closer to the Great Lake. He thinks he hears his name but doesn’t turn or stop. It gets lost in the rain and wind. He gets away.</p><p>Harry stumbles through shrubbery and trips over rocks and wet pebbles. He stops and stares ahead. He’s not bothered by the cold. The rainfall ripples over the lake’s surface and the dark of it is compelling. Harry wants to jump in and get lost in it. Now that the sky is falling he can finally let go. He’s ready to jump when cold arms grab him.</p><p>Harry freezes on the spot and his mind clouds. His aunt has never liked that he tries to run away when she chastises him. He tries to hear what she’s telling him, tries to pay attention and answer if asked, or his uncle Vernon will come, and his big hands hurt more than hers when he grabs him. But there’s noise in his ears and his eyes can’t see, unfocused. His breathing agitates more, and the hands turn him around. He tries to concentrate. There’s no long neck, elongated face, pale eyes or large teeth. The hair is blond but paler and the features of the face he’s looking at are aristocratic. Draco. He’s the one speaking and holding him.</p><p>Harry shies away from his touch, pushes him. “Don’t touch me. Stay away, Draco.” Harry barely hears himself and he thinks Draco can’t either because he reaches for him and holds him anyway. “Don’t. You’ll get dirty.” Harry repeats louder.</p><p>“Stop fighting, Harry. You’ll fall. I’ll let you go if you take three steps in my direction, alright?”</p><p>Harry nods. He can think better once Draco lets go of him. He walks step by step forward.</p><p>“What’s happening, Harry? Talk to me.” Draco’s voice breaks.</p><p>“I can’t.” Harry shakes his head.</p><p>“Stop doing that, Harry.” The strained quality of Draco’s voices makes Harry lift his head.</p><p>“I’m not doing anything.”</p><p>“Your arms, stop scratching them, you’re bleeding.”</p><p>Harry looks at his arms and he’s indeed bleeding. Lightening cracks the sky and Harry moans. “I… I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Shush, Harry.” Draco reaches for his hand and Harry flinches. “May I? Harry?”</p><p>“You shouldn’t.” Draco tries to hide the hurt, but Harry sees it. “It’s not you. I always want to feel you, but I can’t, Draco. I’m a freak.”</p><p>“What are you talking about, Harry?”</p><p>“She always said that when I was a child.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“My aunt. She didn’t like that I touched her or Dudley. I was dirty, I was always dirty and a freak.”</p><p>“You’re not, Harry. Let me heal you. Please.”</p><p>Harry hums.</p><p>“<i>Vulnera Sanentur</i>.” Draco repeats the spell two times more. It's a chanting.</p><p>“Why didn’t you use this to heal you?”</p><p>“What? When?”</p><p>“When you saved me from Lestrange. It was you. I’ve known for months.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter now.”</p><p>“It does. You’ve become a good man. And I might ruin you.”</p><p>“You would never, Harry. Look at me. You would never. You saved me more than once. You saved us all, you died for it. You love fiercely like your mom. You would never ruin me. Your aunt was a cruel woman, it’s not you. It’s her.”</p><p>Harry shakes his head.</p><p>“Stop, Harry. I love you and I know you. All of your loved ones know you and they’re with you.” Draco gets closer. “Let me, Harry. I want to touch you, to feel you, to comfort you too. Let me.”</p><p>Harry has no more energy and he crumbles into Draco. Sobs wreck his body, and Draco holds him tight. Several bolts light the night sky. Harry and Draco don’t move for minutes.</p><p>“We should go back inside.”</p><p>Harry’s not sure who says it, but they make their way back. Harry trips constantly on the mudded ground, Draco holds him and they come in through the entrance hall that stands open for them. The castle warms as soon they enter, and candles alight in their path.</p><p>The common room is empty. Everyone must’ve returned when the rain got stronger. The door of his room opens alone. A dinner like the one from the day before rests on the desk and his room is warmer than everywhere else. Draco helps him undress, he can’t move his frozen fingers. He puts on his pajamas and lays down on his bed. Draco wraps the covers over him.</p><p>“<i>Accio</i>chair. <i>Accio</i> dinner.” Draco casts a drying charm over his clothes, sits next to Harry's bed and lays the tray down on his lap. “You should eat.”</p><p>Harry doesn’t want to, but he knows that what’s happening is affecting his physical health too, so he eats what Draco offers him. When he finishes, Draco levitates the dishes back to the desk. “Would you sleep with me?” Harry asks.</p><p>“Do you think it’s a good idea?”</p><p>“I don’t know. But I want you to. Rest next to me.” Harry pats the bed over the covers. Draco takes his shoes off and lays down. Harry feels his warm body press next to him, though they’re not touching directly. “Take one of my blankets.”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“You’re not.” Harry touches the window frame and the wall under it. “Could you, pretty?”</p><p>The castle conjures a blanket over Draco.</p><p>“You’re a spoiled brat, Harry.” Draco huffs. “She does like you, huh?”</p><p>“I’m charming.”</p><p>“Sure, Harry. We’ll settle on the miracle that it is that you didn’t kill her from boredom.”</p><p>“I have not lived up to my title, shocking.” Harry laughs somewhat strained, and the sound soon fades in the room. “Can I tell you about them?”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>Harry tells him everything he can remember about the Dursleys and his years with them. Draco never stops looking at him, sometimes he reaches out his hand but never touches him. Harry sheds tears when he tells him about the first birthday he remembers with his aunt. He was three and had been gathering flowers from her garden all morning. He made a bouquet and went in the house. He saw her in the kitchen, ran up to her and hugged her calf. She pushed him away. Still, he offered the bouquet, the flowers glowed and closed and opened repeatedly. He thought they were beautiful and was so happy, but she cleaned her leg, threw away the bouquet and tossed him inside his cupboard. It was the first time he was locked under the stairs. He didn’t cry at first, but when the night came and they didn’t come for him, he thought they would leave him there forever. He panicked and wet his pants. The next day, his aunt took him out with a disgusted face. She cleaned him and washed him with cold water. ‘You’re a freak like your mother and father. You’ll never touch us again, unless you’re clean, do you hear me?’ Harry thinks that with the bouquet it was the first time he did magic.</p><p>Draco asks if he can touch him and Harry nods. Draco dries his tears with his fingers. “You were a baby, Harry.” Harry knows this but can’t get her out of his head. “She was supposed to take care of you. Salazar, why don’t you hate them?”</p><p>“They’re bitter on their own. I don’t need to hate them. I just want to forget her.” Draco hugs Harry over the covers and Harry snuggles into him. “I think I need to do it.”</p><p>“What?” whispers Draco.</p><p>“See the mind-healer.”</p><p>“I think is best. If you want.”</p><p>“I want. Not only because you smell good and it makes me want to feel you without fear. I want to be better for Teddy, for my family, my friends. And for me.”</p><p>They hear the rain outside; the lightening break the sky. Harry lifts his arms to his face and sees his tattoos, he has them here with him, those he lost. Harry thinks about the summer: perfect days, soft breeze, green fields and his heart dances at the promise of a golden daffodils’ sea.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you’re interested in the reason behind Draco’s and Harry’s tattoos, you can let me know in the comments and, once reveals are done, I’ll make a post in Tumblr or something.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading. I’ll be pleased to read anything you have to say in the comments, love you &lt;3</p><p>You can find me on my Tumblr @<a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/laudh8">laudh8</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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